Scars
by ElectroKate
Summary: SPN Imagine oneshot: "Imagine Dean dumping you despite knowing your fear of being alone, due to believing you'll find someone better than him. But when you meet 3 years later, he's hit by guilt and regret to discover you'd remained single since he left you." Deanxreader. One-shot, angsty, sad, fluff.


Posted on my tumblr - deans-inferno

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Original imagine found on Supernatural Imagine Tumblr

Warnings: self-neglect after break up, depression

Word count: 2200

Summary: Imagine Dean dumping you despite knowing your fear of being alone, due to believing you'll find someone better than him. But when you meet 3 years later, he'd hit by guilt and regret to discover you'd remained single since he left you.

**Scars**

It was a day like any other in the sleepy town you lived; people meandered the streets, taking their time and soaking in the contented happiness that seemed to pervade all who lived there. It was almost out of a fairy tale, what with all the brightly coloured houses and picket fences, absolutely and incredibly _normal_.

But it wasn't always like that, no. You remembered a time, four years ago to be exact, when the town was terrorized by an unknown force. Well, unknown to everyone else. You, however, were painfully aware that vampires stalked the townsfolk, picking them off one by one and feeding off their blood for sustenance. It was terrifying, you'd only just started hunting on your own and had decided to investigate the small town. Little did you know that the vampire nest was bigger than you'd originally thought, more organised than usual and definitely out of your league.

You'd called Bobby requesting help and within days, in rode the Winchesters like knights in shining armour. Efficient, incredibly skilled, and brutal, they'd systematically wiped out the entire nest in one night. You'd helped of course, but if you were being honest they definitely didn't need you.

But the hunt wasn't why this town drew you back every year, why you found yourself sitting in a booth at the dive bar, watching the world go by around you.

No, the reason you sat at that bar alone in this incredibly mundane town, was Dean Winchester.

He was a whirlwind of charm, good looks, heart aching selflessness and daddy issues. He'd swept into your life and fundamentally changed you; for better or worse, you still couldn't tell. One year, you'd been together. One glorious year you'd spent with him, traveling the back roads of the countryside, drinking cheap booze, hustling pool and hunting down monsters. The danger, the excitement, the _freedom_ had brought you closer to Dean than you'd ever thought possible. You didn't say it, but you definitely and completely loved him.

Until he dumped you.

"You deserve something better," he'd said, his green eyes imploring you to understand. You did understand, but that didn't mean you had to like it.

The two of you had argued bitterly. For you, there wasn't anything or anyone better. For him, being with him was the most dangerous place in the world, and he would kill himself if you were to get hurt because he'd put you there.

Despite your ranting about your independence and the fact that you _just didn't care_ about the danger, he'd left, leaving no trace of his existence in your life except the jagged and gaping scar in your heart that would never, _ever, _heal.

The scar was what brought you back to this town, to the place where it all began. You remembered the town differently, remembered it being a bright place where everyone was cheery and even the dive bar was slightly less dive-y. But the world had lost colour for you, everything was in sepia and the only thing that really felt real anymore were the memories of this place.

"Another scotch on the rocks?" the waitress asked, clearing away your last drink. You nodded at her, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea but not caring. You were alone here, no one was going to hold you responsible for wanting to drink away the painful past.

The booth you were in at the bar had a perfect view of the table you'd sat at with the Winchesters, where you'd hatched the plan to take down those vamps and where you'd first realized just how beautiful Dean's smile.

"Here you go, darlin'", the waitress placed the drink before you with a flourish, flashing you a false smile as she angled for a tip. You ignored her.

The bar was mostly empty, only alcoholics and employees there at that time of day. You fell into the former now, you supposed. Not that it bothered you. Not much bothered you these days. Three years of being alone had hardened you, made you like stone to the outside world.

"Starting the party a little early?" A low voice greeted from behind you.

You wondered if perhaps you had to add hallucinations to your laundry list of problems, but as you whipped your head around and came face to face with the object of your dreams, your heart faltered.

"Dean?" You whispered, almost reverently.

He looked almost exactly the same as he'd been three years ago. The leather jacket hung off his shoulders, his smirk in place, hair an artful mess, and stubble peppering the angular line of his jaw. He watched your expression as you carefully examined him, drinking in every feature like a woman dying of thirst.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he slid in your booth, sitting opposite you, and clasped his hands in front of him. "Long time no see."

That was the understatement of the century. Three years of no contact and now this miraculous appearance. You forced yourself to breathe again.

"Yeah," you murmured. You cleared your throat. "What are you doing here?"

Dean let his eyes roam over your face, no doubt cataloging your sunken cheeks and unhealthy pallor, the way your hair hung lifelessly to your shoulders and the fact that you'd lost weight in the time he'd been away. It wasn't your fault, you'd tried your best to maintain normal habits. But when you're alone, there wasn't much to motivate you. It was easy to forget the simple things.

"Passin' through. Remembered our first hunt here and thought I'd see how things were doing," he raised his eyebrows. "Didn't expect to see your car out front, though. What are you doing back here?"

"Same as you," you lied easily. There was no way you were going to admit the real reason.

Dean nodded, examining you closely. You couldn't help but stare at his lips as he pursed them. "What have you been up to?"

"Hunting every now and then, nothing major," you said lightly, shifting your arm slightly. You tried to be inconspicuous, to hide the jagged wound that you'd recently received from a demon a few towns over. But Dean's hawk like eyes caught the movement. His hand flew to your arm, pulling it away from your body and exposing the wound to him.

"What is this?" he asked, eyes accusing.

"Just a scratch," you replied, keeping your tone even, though you wanted to scream, wanted to cry, wanted to fall in his arms and run away from him all at the same time. His presence was making it hard for you to breathe, it just kept pulling at the scar on your heart and making it worse.

"This isn't a scratch," his eyes smoldered into yours as his voice turned low and dangerous. "You've been reckless. What are you thinking, hunting alone? I told you to be safe!"

His words angered you. "Yeah, right before you dumped me! You have no right to tell me how to live my life, not after you abandoned me in this stupid town."

Dean's face shifted, his jaw clenched and he drew back his hand from your arm. "You know I only did that to keep you safe. You're better off without me."

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, my life has been _so_ great since then." Sarcasm dripped from your words. "Did you think I'd just be able to forget you? That I'd find a nice man and settle down and have some rugrats? That's not what I wanted Dean, I never did. Don't presume to know what's best for me."

Dean's brows furrowed in confusion. "You're only alive right now because I left. I can't put you in that much danger."

"No, Dean," you told him, finding the courage to say the words to his face after thinking them for so long. "Why do you think I'm here? You never left, not really. You've been killing me ever since, piece by piece. You left because you were _scared_." You stood up, finished your drink and slammed it back on the table. "I poured my heart out to you, told you how much I was scared of being alone, how absolutely and incredibly happy I was to have you. And you _left._"

You threw down some bills, gathered your bag and coat, and stormed out of the bar. He was unbelievable. After all these years, he still hadn't come to his senses. He'd always rubbed you the wrong way, got under your skin so easily it was like he lived there. But you never imagined seeing him again, never imagined in a million years that you would yell at him and storm out.

You regretted it immediately, as you stood on the curb, trying to figure out what to do next. You could feel his presence behind you in the bar like the sun on your back. You wanted to run back to him and be with him, even if only for a little while, because it was better than nothing, right? But the rational part of you, the part that still held onto some logic and wanted to preserve what little sanity you had left, knew that that was a bad idea.

So you drew a deep breath and crossed the road to your car. You needed to get out of here. The small electric green buggy, the very same car that Dean had always teased you about and had hated, sat waiting for your return. You slid into the driver's seat and closed the door. As soon as you were inside, you let the tidal wave of emotions roll through you.

You rested your head on the steering wheel, your hair falling like a curtain around you, as you cried. These weren't the delicate sobs you sometimes allowed yourself every now and then, no, these were trembling, wet, painful sobs that shook your body from head to toe. He'd completely ruined you.

You didn't see the figure that walked past the front of your car, but you heard the passenger door open and slam shut, the car shifting as someone sat beside you. You didn't need to look up to know who it was, you felt his presence like another part of you. Your soul was inextricably tethered to his.

"Leave me alone," you groaned, not wanting to look up and see the pity in his eyes when he saw your swollen face and tear stained cheeks.

He didn't say anything, didn't need to. Tentatively, he ran his hand down your back, his fingers rubbing slow circles that soothed you and made you shiver. After a few moments, you shifted your face to look at him through your hair, watching his sad expression.

"I'm sorry," he told you, two simple words you'd wanted to hear for a while now.

You didn't realise until you'd already done so, but you buried yourself in his arms. His scent assaulted you; leather, gun oil and something just distinctly _Dean_. You sniffed away the tears, your hands clutching him like a lifeline as he continued to rub your back, his mouth kissing your hair over and over again.

"I'm broken," you whispered to him, feeling the truth of the words right down to your core.

Dean was quiet for a while, still pressing his lips to your hair, your forehead. Eventually, he pulled away from you, lifting your chin with one strong finger and forcing you to lock eyes with him, your face inches away.

"I was wrong," he told you, as though he'd come to a decision. "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you, for doing this to you."

He slowly pressed his lips to yours, giving you ample time to pull away. You should have refused, should have remembered how hard it was to watch him leave last time, but it was too late. He was here, and he was with you and your mouth was pressed against his as he waited for you to respond. And you did respond, you moved your lips in a rhythm with his that was as familiar as breathing. You fit together perfectly, his tongue softly caressing yours and drawing your timid movements towards passion and need.

You could feel the desperation in the kiss, feel how scared you both were of what was happening, what would happen. But it didn't matter. In that moment, you were in love again. The world returned to colour once more, brightness bled from the kiss and immediately painted the world in reds, yellows, greens.

Slowly, the pressure in your chest and the weight on your shoulders lessened. The jagged scar on your heart began to heal.


End file.
